


A Gift

by MaraschinoSqueeze



Series: Destiel Reveals [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Cas and emotions, Human Castiel, M/M, Mixtape, Wingfic, cas gives dean a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 16:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13298325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraschinoSqueeze/pseuds/MaraschinoSqueeze
Summary: Cas has a gift for Dean.





	A Gift

Considering the amount of time he had spent planning this, Cas was incredibly nervous. He’d gone over all the possibilities and thought long and hard about whether this was the right thing to do. He was sure that this was what he wanted, but not for the first time he wished he could ask Dean for his input. That was an impossibility, however, given that Dean not knowing what he was up to was integral to the plan. He reminded himself once more that this secret was not like the others. This was a surprise.

Like the time that Dean had given him the mixtape. Cas had been acutely aware of how nervous Dean was. His freckles were hidden under the vermilion blush that had unfurled across his cheekbones all the way to the cartilage of his ears. Cas remembered trying to trace the edges of the blush as it descended across his jawline and into the contours of his neck before disappearing beneath his maroon flannel. A tongue nervously flicking across an upper lip pulled Cas’ attention back to Dean’s face before he spoke. 

“So, Cas I was thinking about you driving that truck and having nothing to listen to but the top 40s and I just thought, what a shame, ya know? So I, uh… well here.” He handed him a small rectangular object and shoved his hands into his denim pockets as soon as they were empty.

Cas traced the handwriting on the tape with his eyes just as he had done that day. At the time he hadn’t understood the significance of the gift. Not until he had tried unsuccessfully to give it back. “It’s a gift. You keep those,” Dean’s words rang like bells in a church choir in Cas’ memory. He let himself dwell on the memory for several minutes, wanting the details to stick.

Cas rolled the glass tube in his hands around and took several deep breaths. Then he flexed his broken wings, spreading them wide in the ethereal plane. If he brought them to the material plane with them both stretched wide there wouldn’t be enough space to accommodate them in his room in the bunker, so pulled his left wing in close to his body and stretched the right wing until the tips touched the wall. Then, he flicked his wing sharply and brought his wings to this plane. His back ached like a muscle that hadn’t been used in a while at the added weight. He lightly flapped his wings, watching as the onyx feathers floated to the floor. Then he pulled his right wing in and did the same with his left wing.

He had been doing this exercise every few days for the last several weeks, wanting to collect as many of his feathers as possible while he still could. When he finished he tucked his wings back into the ethereal plane and stretched them out behind himself once more. He collected his feathers and placed them with the others in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

Cas stood in front of the mirror behind the door and commanded his angel blade to him. He popped the top of the tube and held it against his neck. Then he slowly sliced the skin above the tube with his angel blade and winced when his grace reacted to the pain. The tube was a heavenly object, designed to attract raw grace. His grace came out in tendrils and compacted itself inside the tube, swirling with discomfort at leaving its host. His body immediately felt heavy with ache and loss, so he capped the tube now containing his grace and stumbled to the bed.

Cas woke several hours later to a grumbling stomach and a dry mouth. He was clutching the tube of his grace underneath the pillow. He sat up on the bed and swallowed thickly. Off the nightstand he grabbed one of the water bottles he’d left for this purpose and chugged it. Then he ripped open the Ziploc bag containing a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich and ate it, savoring the familiar taste.

It was annoying how quickly he needed to urinate after hydrating. He tucked the grace into the drawer. He wasn’t quite ready for it yet. When he was exiting the bunker’s bathroom after taking care of his human chores, he reached in to flick off the light switch and when he turned forwards smacked into a solid object he wasn’t expecting. It took him a moment to realize the object was a person.

“Dean! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you!” His hands fluttered down Dean’s arms hoping he hadn’t hurt him. The muscles his hands grazed sent a spike through his stomach he hadn’t been expecting.

“It’s fine. I’m fine, Cas. Are you okay? What were you doing in the bathroom?” Cas watched as Dean’s mouth curved softly upwards and his brow furrowed in concern. As Dean’s eyes darted over Cas’ face, Cas was overwhelmed with an onslaught of emotions he hadn’t been expecting.

He struggled to find the appropriate response, “I’m alright. I was… Nothing of import. Just wandering.” He quickly fled before his traitorous body could reveal anything he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

In the safety of his room Cas leaned his head back against the cold glass of the mirror on the back of the door. His right hand was clenched tight around the doorknob and his left in a fist against the hard fabric of his trench coat. When he finally released the tension, there were fingernail indentations on his left hand and his right throbbed with arthritic pain.

Being human was… painful. And disorienting. He had gone over this plan hundreds of times. Thought endlessly of the times he had been human before. He thought he had it all worked out. He thought he was prepared this time. He wasn’t anticipating the intensity of… feeling that he felt towards Dean. _How do they do it?_ The annoyance of thirst, hunger, fatigue, and urination was nothing compared to the chaos his mind and body entered when he had been face to face with Dean. Cas didn’t know where to begin in trying to make sense of it.

He was sweating, he realized. He shucked his jacket and coat off, flinging them on the desk chair. When that didn’t help, he loosened the tie and tossed it on the floor. His shoes landed somewhere on the other side of the bed. He collapsed sideways onto the bed and ran his hands through his hair, yanking slightly on the curls at the crown to try to ground himself. The fabric of his clothing was bothersome against his flushed skin so he fiddled with the belt at his waist and wiggled out of the trousers. Then, he unbuttoned his top and let his arms fall away from his body with a sigh.

Cas let his mind wander. He thought of Dean’s tongue skirting across his lips before he thrust a cassette tape at him, of Dean adjusting his tie before they entered a police station, of the way Dean laughed with his whole body and clapped Cas on his shoulder when they left the brothel, of the warm embrace Dean pulled him into when they reunited in Purgatory, of the way Dean’s Adam’s Apple bobbed and his eyes fluttered when Cas imitated Val Kilmer, of fingers gliding down his thigh when he was resurrected at April’s, of a hand squeezing – Cas’ eyes shot open as he felt a physiological response to the memories that were flooding his mind.

He bolted upright on the bed and glared at the offensive tent at his groin. He snatched the second water bottle off the table and chugged it down in an effort to control himself. After pacing the room for several minutes he pulled the tube of grace and pile of feathers out of the bottom drawer and arranged them in the wooden box he’d purchased for this occasion. He had used his grace to engrave the box with Enochian symbols. When the box was arranged he tucked it under his arm walked down the hallway towards Dean’s room.

Dean answered the door while Cas was still knocking. Cas had forgotten about his discarded clothing until he felt the prickle of Dean’s eyes as they traced up and down his body. “Cas, buddy, what are you doing? Why are you – “

“Hello, Dean. Can I come in? It’s important.” Dean let the door fall open and gestured for Cas to sit with a sigh. As Cas sat on the edge of the bed, Dean closed the door behind him. “So, what’s up Cas? Tired of the outfit?”

“I was hot,” Dean’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but before he could interrogate him Cas pulled the chest onto his lap. “I have something for you,” he said as he held the it out for Dean.

Dean approached the bed and took the box, running his fingers over the engravings. “What is it?”

“It says ‘ _oali nanaeel piripsol a oi zizop, isro de bransg unal qcocasb telocvovim_.’ It means ‘I have placed my power of the heavens in this container, promise to guard these contents of him that is fallen.’” Cas watched as realization washed over Dean’s face. He reached over, unclasped the locking mechanism, and opened the chest. Dean took a shaky breath and sat down on the bed next to him.

“Cas, is this…” His index finger grazed the glass tube containing Cas’ grace. The grace reacted by pulling towards the contact point. Dean gasped and pulled his finger away. When he turned his eyes to Cas in shock, Cas nodded slowly. “It’s my grace. And these,” he pulled an alula feather out of the box with his right hand and caressed it with his left index finger. The grace in the tube shimmered in response. “These are what remains of my wings. I want you to keep these safe for me, Dean.”

Cas waited patiently as Dean struggled for words. “Cas why is your grace in a tube?” he finally asked.

Cas had been expecting this question, but it didn’t make it any easier to answer. It was made even more difficult by his recent… emotional turmoil. He spoke slowly when he answered, “I don’t want to be without you. I want to… experience life alongside you. You have been my family for years. I can’t imagine a life where I’m not with you.”

Cas tracked the movement of Dean’s Adam’s Apple as he swallowed his nerves. “But you’ll be human now, Cas.” Cas’ eyes had been tracing the movement of Dean’s jaw as he spoke and when he reached Dean’s eyes, he shivered. “Cas?”

“Hmm? Oh, right. I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Right, I know. But I prefer it this way. Will you keep it safe for me?” He held Dean’s gaze, waiting for his response.

After a while, Dean nodded. “Yea. Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas lifted his hand to Dean’s face and smoothed his fingers across his cheekbone. Whether it was because he didn’t have a firm grasp on his reactions or because it just felt like the right thing to do at the moment, Cas wasn’t sure, but Dean responded by leaning his cheek into Cas’ palm and closing his eyes. Dean’s reaction seemed to release a dam in Cas’ control. He snaked his hand behind Dean’s neck and leaned in until their lips were inches apart. He paused, unsure if Dean wanted this, but Dean met him the rest of the way. Their lips moved together in a way Cas wasn’t expecting. It felt different than kissing April or Meg. It felt like kneading a piece of clay. Like they were of the same mold. When they came up for air, Cas panted his gratitude again, “Thank you, Dean.”


End file.
